


tell me there are things that you regret

by niallhoranbitches



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I mean, M/M, the things don't seem to be fixed so i'm fixing them myself, too much to ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallhoranbitches/pseuds/niallhoranbitches
Summary: “I bumped into Niall yesterday.”Zayn was so busy carrying two cartons of milk to the fridge and he almost missed those words. Almost.Because whenever that name was mentioned, he still felt like a little spark was going over his whole body





	tell me there are things that you regret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LePetitComte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitComte/gifts), [niallszayn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallszayn/gifts).



> (i'm gonna babble more on tumblr so lemme just make a quick dedication here so i won't bore you to death)  
> This fic has two dedications.  
> First - for my wonderful Jules, for coming up with the request, that I absolutely hated at first because I can't do angsts, but then I loved, because she told me to fix things that ain't fixed.  
> Second - for my lovely Pia with the bestest birthday wishes, lots of love, higs and kisses. Hope it'll make you smile a bit in that lovely day ;')  
> Hope you two (as well as whoever's going to read it) will like it. Love ya loads :*** <3
> 
> it wasn't beta'd so all the mistakes are my own fault and i'm sorry

There was a soft knock on the door. Zayn knew who he’d find on the other side before he even went to answer it. There weren’t that many people visiting him and besides, when you lived all your life with someone, you got used to their habits. Even their knocks. 

“Hello, love,” Zayn was greeted by a big smile as soon as he opened the door and a pair of warm arms tugged him closer, crushing him in a hug.

For a woman her size, Trisha Malik was pretty strong. At least when it came to hugs. 

“Hi, mum,” he answered, pressing a kiss to his mum’s cheek. “What are you doing here?”

Just as Zayn expected, she almost completely ignored his question and walked past him to get to the kitchen. Only then Zayn noticed that she was carrying two bags, probably filled with food. Trisha started explaining that she just was in the neighbourhood and she decided to check on her only son - who she wasn’t seeing often enough, of course. Both of them knew that it was pure nonsense, but nobody said a word. It was always like this.

Before Zayn reached the kitchen, the counter was already halfway filled with groceries and boxes with homemade goodies.

“You’re aware that I can do shopping on my own? And that I also have a cooker?”

“I have doubts if you even use it. You’re forgetting to eat properly again, you think I don’t know you?” Trisha sent him a glare over her shoulder. “You’re getting skinnier and skinnier every time I see you!”

“You’ve seen me three days ago, mum. And you said the exact same thing. I think you’re exaggerating a bit, ya know?”

Despite his words, Zayn couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. It was nice to have someone that cared about him. Even if it was just his mum. Besides, his mama’s meals always were the highlight of his days.

For a few moments he only watched his mum shifting around the kitchen. Sometimes Zayn thought that she knew this place better than he did, even though he lived in this apartment for a few years now. And he  _ did  _ cook from time to time, despite his mum’s accusations. 

To not feel like an alien in his own house, Zayn moved from where he was leaning against the doorframe and helped Trisha unpack all the food she’d brought. He also tried to keep up with the updates on their family and friends that his mum was giving him. It turned out to be harder than packing groceries away. To be honest, he didn’t really listened that carefully, it was a lot of information and he didn’t even cared about half of it. One thing was for sure - he didn’t inherit wordiness from his mother.

“I bumped into Niall yesterday.”

Zayn was so busy carrying two cartons of milk to the fridge and he almost missed those words.  _ Almost _ . 

Because whenever that name was mentioned, he still felt like a little spark was going over his whole body. It startled him hard enough, that one of the cartons he was holding, fell on the floor with a loud thud.

“Shit,” Zayn mumbled under his breath, picking up the container and clearing his throat awkwardly. “That’s- Um, that’s great. How’s he doing?”

His heart started pounding faster, which was absolutely ridiculous. He really shouldn’t be reacting like that. Not anymore. But… Zayn really didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer for a questions he’s just asked. If he was ready for it.

“Have you talked to him lately?” His mum said instead, as if she could tell that Zayn was having a tiny internal crisis even when he tried to hide behind the fridge’s door. 

She probably could.

“I…,” Zayn started, unsure. “Um, we texted? Earlier this month or so, don’t remember.”

Of course he did remember and it wasn’t even close to this two weeks of October that had passed. The last time was about 5 months ago. Zayn texted him about Slow Hands being a great banger and that he loved it. Niall thanked him. That was all. Zayn remembered it painfully well. His mum didn’t have to know that, though. 

Trisha glared at Zayn, probably hadn’t believed him at all. “We haven’t really had time to catch up properly, he was in a rush, as you all always are. But that’s understandable, his album is coming out in a few days, right?”

It took a lot of Zayn’s self control to stop a heavy sigh from escaping his mouth. Why did his mother want to talk about Niall so badly? Zayn knew why - just to mess with him. Or maybe because she adored Niall with passion, like everyone else always did. Probably both. Still, it was really unfair she made him go through this. Mothers shouldn't do things like this.

“Yeah, I think it is?” he nodded, trying to sound casual about it. He knew exactly when it’s out. He hadn’t really checked any social media in a while, hadn’t listened to the radio. And yet, he still knew that  _ Flicker  _ is out on October 20th, which happened to be tomorrow. It was hard not to know this, when posters with Niall’s face on them were hunting Zayn for a good two weeks. The Universe really did hate him.

And it was  _ obviously _ just a coincidence that his mother picked that day to pay him a visit.

“I’ve heard his single the other day, they were playing it on the radio. It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

Closing his eyes for a second, Zayn took a deep breath and straightened up. It was starting to become suspicious that he was crouching with his head in the fridge for so long, so he needed to finally close it. That didn’t mean he was ready to face his mother who was watching him carefully.

“Um, I… I haven’t really had time to listen to it yet. Bet it’s wonderful, though. His previous ones had been really aces so why this one wouldn’t?” He said, making his way to the other side of the kitchen, aiming for the cooker. “Do you want some tea? I’ll fix us some, yeah?”

Tea was always a good idea, especially when it created an opportunity to run away from his own mum. Zayn loved her more than anything, but sometimes she was too much. And she wasn’t subtle at all.

Luckily, Trisha seemed to get the hint and she dropped the topic, telling Zayn about how Safaa was doing in school and what was happening at home - that of course he wasn’t visiting enough - in general. Zayn was glad to focus on that and not of his former bandmate that still had this weird effect on him.

 

It wasn’t until later, when they sat by the table, all the groceries put away, a cup of tea in each hand, something bubbling happily in a pot his mum put on the cooker a while ago. Zayn was content with the relative silence, having his mum on the other side of the table and not having to worry about anything important at the moment. But it would be too good of an afternoon if it had stayed this way.

“You really should talk to him, you know?”

Zayn flinched, turning his head towards his mum.

“Who?” he asked dumbly. Considering the look on Trisha’s face, he knew exactly what she was going to say next. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend.

“Niall,” she said, looking like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. Instead, she looked at her son, a hint of worry in her voice. “Don't you miss him?”

“We are talking,” Zayn stated, completely ignoring the second question he was asked. The only reaction he’d gotten was a disapproving glance. Damn, this woman knew him too well. “We really are. Maybe not as often as we used to, but… I mean… I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I’m not expecting you to say anything,” she sighed. “Well, not to me, at least. But don’t you think it’s time to stop sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

Even Zayn could tell that his voice was saying something completely opposite and he hated himself for that. But the truth was, he wasn’t sulking. Pining, maybe. But not sulking. He wasn’t five to be sulking without any reason to do so.

“It’s just…,” his mum leaned forward, biting her lip, “you two were so… close. And happy. Back then. I miss seeing you like that, you know?”

“Mum…,” it sounded like a whine and Zayn wanted to bang his head against the table. However, he doubted if that would help him convince his mother that he was totally ok and totally not sulking. “Why are we talking about him anyway? You bugging me about it wouldn’t change much, would it?”

Zayn almost winced at how harsh his voice sounded. He didn’t mean to snap at his mother like this. It was just tiring, being reminded how he had fucked up and what he had lost. Whom he had lost. Zayn would prefer some help with forgetting about all this.

Trisha sent him a hard look and for a few second, she hasn’t said a word. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded much softer and kinder than her look might suggest. “You’re right. Me bugging you about him won’t change much. But maybe I’ll finally bug you enough that you'll do something about it.”

Clenching his teeth, Zayn looked down at the mug he was holding, not saying anything more.

 

***

 

Zayn wasn’t the easiest person to be around. He had some awful habits, that he knew he should get rid off, but he couldn’t. Tendency to run away from his problems when they were becoming too much to handle, cutting people off - even the ones closest to his heart - or feeling suffocated by a lot of, sometimes very trivial stuff. Some people said that it wasn’t something bad, that it was just his way to deal with the big, bad world. Or at least his mum said so. But the truth was, that sometimes those things was getting in Zayn’s way. Stopping him from doing things he really wanted to do, but was too scared or too stupid to try.

With a heavy sigh, Zayn rolled on his bed. He should add “overthinking” to the long list of his bad habits. As well as “thinking the dead of night is a perfect time to reflect on his miserable life”. It wasn’t causing any good.

He untangled his arm from under the covers and tried to find the phone without opening his eyes. It was harder than expected, but finally his fingers reached the device and brought it up to his face. Peeking one eye open, Zayn cursed under his breath when the bright light hit his tired eyes. It was just a few minutes after 3 in the morning and Zayn hated the whole world as if his insomnia was its fault. But it was easier, blaming something that couldn’t defend itself. This way his guilt trip wasn’t eating him alive. 

He was mostly alright, though. Just sometimes, on nights like this, he felt that stupid sinking feeling in his stomach, the urge to punch someone. Himself, preferably. It was all gone the next day, most of this moping at least, so it wasn’t really that bad. The only problem was that nights like that were happening quite often lately.

 

After a few minutes of mindless staring at his phone, Zayn taped out the code and unlocked it. For god-knows-which time he gave himself a mental smack on the head and almost laughed at his own soppiness. There were so many combinations and yet, he had to pick those four damn digits. And after all this time he couldn’t bring himself to change it.

His fingers hovered over the screen, not sure why he’d even taken the phone.

Except he did.

With a defeated sigh, Zayn clicked the Spotify icon. During her visit, Trisha at least ten times mentioned how beautiful Too Much To Ask was and that he should listen to it. And who Zayn was to say no to his own mother.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to hear it. Listening to Niall’s voice was always a great experience, no matter whether the Irishman was singing, talking or laughing. And that was exactly the reason why Zayn was so hesitant. The fact that he wasn’t able to hear much of the talking or the laughing lately hurt too much.

Plus, after hearing to the previous single, Zayn wasn’t sure if he could handle to the rest of the album. Listening to Slow Hands made him feel that awful sting of jealousy, because thinking about Niall hooking up with some random chick wasn’t really his favourite way of spending the day. The possibility of hearing more things like this made him anxious. He didn’t want to realise that Niall was over him, while Zayn most certainly wasn’t over Niall. Didn’t matter what he was telling others.

Nevertheless, he was a weak man. Especially with his mum gushing about the song all day and sending him all those weird looks. He typed out the title and clicked play, trying to ignore his pounding heart.

Soft sounds filled Zayn’s bedroom. Just after the first notes, Zayn knew that it wasn’t something he had expected. When Niall started singing, Zayn closed his eyes and clutched the phone more firmly in his hand. After a while without hearing it, Niall’s voice sounded different from what Zayn remembered. It was stronger, somehow a bit foreign. But at the same time so familiar. And even more beautiful.

Zayn was worried that over the furious pounding of his heart he wouldn’t be able to hear the lyrics properly. But every single word was clear as day, resounding loudly in the silence of the room. And it felt like every single one of them was ripping Zayn’s heart from his chest, releasing all the thoughts and feelings he was carefully stashing for all this time. It was all out now, like Zayn could hear it in the song.

Staring down at his phone, Zayn didn’t know whether he wanted to turn it off or to play the song once more and then again, so he wouldn’t miss anything. He did none of this, vision to blurry to see the screen properly. Was he crying? He wasn’t really sure. Zayn held his phone even tighter, feeling the urge to throw it across the room, to make it all stop. Instead, he just lay on his bed, petrified.

He felt like there was not enough space in his lungs for him to breath properly. 

Not enough space in this room. Or in this city.

All the thoughts in his head, the sounds of the song, his pulse pounding in his ears, it all seemed to mix and blend until it turned into a static noise in his mind.

Before Zayn even realised, he was standing in the middle of the room, putting on first clothes he could find. It might have been the worst thing to do, but he couldn’t just let it go. 

He had already let go once.

 

The whole ride was just a blur. Zayn had no idea how he managed to get to the other side of the city without crashing his car or running somebody over. He parked the car, barely remembering about locking it up. After a few more minutes, after running in the chill autumn air, Zayn finally reached his destination. He was trembling all over, his hands shaking. It was hard to tell whether it was because of the emotions, the cold or something entirely different.

Zayn stood there, staring at the door in front of him. What was he even doing? He didn't know if Niall was here and the song might not meant what Zayn thought, hoped it did. Was he allowed to do this? Just show up at Niall's doorstep, all of sudden, after months of silence and years of not seeing each other? Why was his heart speeding its beating even more, just at the thought of seeing Niall's face?

Zayn took a step back. 

The adrenaline he felt earlier was rushing out of him with every breath he took. Instead, the panic was slowly taking over. Zayn felt the urge to run back to his flat, bury himself under the covers and pretend he'd never heard Niall's song, his mum's words from earlier and the crazy thumping of his heart. In situations like this, Zayn had never been the brave one and the possibility of being rejected or Niall not being here, made it even worse. 

Although, Zayn was a coward earlier and instead of protecting him, it left him with a wounded heart. It was hard to live with it. So he knocked. 

For a few, incredibly long and painful moments, nothing was happening. Zayn had a feeling that he still could hear the echo of his fist knocking against the wooden door, noise so loud in the quiet night. But maybe Niall didn’t hear it? If he even was there, he was probably asleep and Zayn knew Niall always was a heavy sleeper. Trying to ignore the anxiety and the blood rushing in his ears, Zayn raised his hand to ring the bell.

As soon as he placed his finger on the doorbell, the door swung open. Zayn’s brain needed a few long seconds to gather what was happening and only then realised that he should stop ringing.

Despite everything, Zayn really couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough to catch Niall in here, that he wasn’t on the other side of the globe. He really hoped that it was a reason to be happy.

They stood there, just staring at each other, none of them could really believe who they saw. Zayn’s eyes wandered through Niall's body, just for a second or two. He was in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, that was still stretching across his broad shoulders. His dark hair was ruffled, short stubble covering his cheeks. And those beautiful blue eyes, now wide opened were staring right at Zayn. Niall looked different, more mature, maybe more tired. Which seemed odd, because not that much time had passed since they've seen each other the last time, so things shouldn't change that much. And yet, they seemed to do.

“Zayn.”

Niall's tone was quiet, but not unsure or questioning. It sounded a bit like a sigh, but Zayn couldn’t tell whether it was a relieved or heavy one. Zayn’s heart - just a second ago pumping like crazy - now almost stopped after hearing his name being said by that low, raspy voice that he loved so much. His breath hitched in his throat, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. What was he doing here? It was difficult to catch at least one coherent thought in the mess that Zayn’s mind was at the moment. Mostly, there was Niall, his eyes closer that they were in years, his smell, his voice. And that damn song, still playing in Zayn’s brain on repeat.

“Was it about me?” Zayn blurted out before he could think twice. 

It might not be the best way to start this conversation, but Zayn was surprised and quite proud of himself for being able to produce any words at all.

“I- What?” Niall shook his head, like he tried to focus. “Was what about you?”

“The song,” Zayn took a step closer. His fingers were twitching to touch Niall, to grab at his arm. To resist the urge, he curled his hands into fists. “Too much to ask. Was it about me?”

Every time that question popped up in his head, Zayn felt stupid. Like he was still as vain as people tried to portray him. That he was just imagining things that weren’t there. Because… was he really that relevant? Was he so relevant that Niall had written such song about him?

But now the question was out. Zayn opened his heart for Niall and there was no coming back. He could only wait and hope that Niall’s answer won’t break him completely.

In response, Niall’s eyes widened in shock and he looked down after a second or two. Zayn could hear the deep breath he took. Niall’s hand that was holding the door, gripped the wood a bit tighter, while the fingers of his other hand ran through his hair.

“Nia-”

“What are you doing, Zayn?” when Niall spoke again his voice was harsh. He snapped his head up, but he looked more tired than angry. “What is this all about, why are you here? It’s not like we pay ourselves a lot of visits lately, you know?”

Zayn didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything at all. Before he could even open his mouth, Niall spoke again.

“We haven’t talked in months and now you just come here, like nothing had happened, in the middle of a fucking night? And you ask me if- What the fuck, Zayn?”

Niall took a step forward. They were standing almost chest to chest and Zayn was no longer sure of anything. He tried not to think about how did Niall’s body changed, tried not to be intimidated by how big he seemed from this close.

“It was so damn hard and when I thought that I- Fuck, I was doing better. And now you’re fucking here. What do you want me to do?” Niall’s fingers ran through that little piece of hair on his temple, the nervous gesture he’d never got rid off. “You want me to tell you that I was so attached that I couldn’t get over you? That I tried to hate you for how our relation went, but I couldn’t? That I’ve written a fucking song cause I don’t know how to deal with such things differently?”

The more Niall talked, the quicker and more jumbled his words became. Zayn could feel Niall’s hot breath against his face, his own heartbeat almost drowning out what Niall was saying. Scattered words were echoing through his head when Zayn tried to make sense out of them, to make sure that he heard what he thought he did.

It seemed almost impossible, though. In that moment, Zayn could think about only one thing that might help him understand. Only one thing that he wanted to do. So he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Niall’s.

He missed a bit, placing a kiss on the corner of Niall’s mouth. That move surprised Niall, who made a weird noise, his words muffled by Zayn’s lips. He jerked back, staring at Zayn, wide-eyed and silent. Feeling more anxious and stupid with every passing second, Zayn opened his mouth to say something. Apologise or say goodbye and run away. Anything to break this silence.

He never did any of those, because all of sudden Niall’s hand were on him, grasping the front of his hoodie and pulling Zayn closer, right into Niall’s arms, into his warmth. Their lips crushed together, the angle not exactly right to kiss properly. Zayn moved one of his hands up, from where it was resting on Niall’s chest and gripped the back of his broad neck. Trying to tangle his fingers in the short, brown hair at the nape, Zayn turned his head and took another step forward, pressing his chest into Niall’s. He could feel Niall’s heartbeat under his palm, trapped between their bodies.

A sigh escaped Zayn’s mouth, when he felt Niall licking at his lips, trying to get inside. He let him, pressing himself further into Niall’s embrace. He was afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, it would all disappear and he’d be back in his flat. Alone.

“Fuck,” Niall mumbled into Zayn’s mouth, leaving a few more small kisses on his lips. Slowly straightening his fingers, he brought his hands up to cup Zayn’s face. Niall rested his forehead on Zayn’s, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Fuck you, Malik. I’d never free myself from you.”

“I don’t want you to,” Zayn whispered quickly. “Please don’t.”

A breathy laugh escaped Niall’s mouth. He moved his face away, just the slightest bit so he could look Zayn in the eyes. Absentmindedly, Niall rubbed Zayn’s cheek with his thumb. Zayn felt like his heart was about to burst in response to that gentle gesture.

“Do I have a choice?” Niall asked, his voice a bit teasing. “I was trying to and you fucked up all the progress I’ve made.”

Zayn grinned, trying to kiss Niall again, but his smile made it quite impossible.

“Sorry it took me so long, though,” he said and then added, getting serious, “Really. I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I was too scared and didn’t know what to do. And the longer I waited, the more I was convincing myself that it’s too late to fix it. I’m an idiot and-”

Just like Zayn did earlier, this time Niall closed his mouth with a kiss. It was very effective, maybe even too effective, since Zayn’s mind went completely blank, Niall’s lips the only thing he could think of.

“You are an idiot. ‘M happy you’d finally understood that so we can move on.”

“Actually it’s my mum. That helped me understand, like. She was dropping subtle hints for some time now,” Zayn felt like his face was going to break in two from how big he was smiling.

Niall hummed in acknowledgement, biting at his lower lip in a rubbish attempt to hide his own smile. 

“Always knew Trisha’s the best Malik.” He said, moving his hands from Zayn’s cheeks to wrap his arms around Zayn’s middle. “But how about we talk more in the morning? Don’t want to ruin the mood but it’s gonna be fucking downing soon.”

“Oh. Right. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t-,” Zayn started. “You have a busy day ahead, I should just go…”

Niall only snorted, pulling Zayn inside and closing the front door behind them. “As if I’m going to let you go ever again.”


End file.
